Melanie Lawson
Melanie Lawson, present senior undersecretary and fence walker extraordinaire. Despite her affinity to the government, her loyalties can be thought ambiguous. She seeks to reaffirm the ministry’s stance of riding corruption and has gone to great measures of assuring that where ever possible. To this extent, she has made herself a more publicised and popular figure, expressing a more ‘honest’ approach to garner support. Although small in stature (a mere 5'2") and not terribly imposing from a cursory glance. Appearance can rather deceiving. Melanie is far more capable than one might expect. Charismatic, yet manipulative. Melanie is not adverse to risk taking if it poses an advantage to her end game. A tendency had can lead to problems when she lets her emotions drive her. This is most common toward people she’s loyal to – going to great lengths to keep them safe. In truth, she is less fond of wearing the numerous masks she does to keep people happy – and it wanes on her, especially due to her position now making it difficult to balance time with her five year old daughter, Keira, and the little family she has. History I scarcely knew my mother, not even by name. It was something I wouldn’t discover for several years. You see, my father rarely spoke of her despite my several queries. Gradually, though my curiosity never abided, I stopped my pestering, if only to spare his feelings. While I could not quite understand the delicacy at the time, somehow I knew the difficulties he had in speaking of her. No matter the context, his voice was always wrenched with guilt, as though a lingering unresolved row had occurred between them, which I was not privy to, not yet anyway. Where that the case, I wouldn’t know, but strangely, he nary spoke ill of her. If anything the opposite were true – subtle undertones I later realized were his oft attempt to meld forgiveness. A sentiment was I not equally as keen to endorse, but perhaps we are getting ahead of ourselves. This would be only among the few closely kept secrets my father kept. Nikolas, he was a gentle man, my confidant, and ‘tragic’ hero of fabled stories. Perhaps I should elaborate on that last bit. Dad had a flair for the dramatic, but in a unique, self-ridiculing fashion. He was what the muggle world call comedians. Instead of magnificent wizards, whose heroics towered mountains. He would tell me those whose save those same villages by complete chance; a backfiring wand that managed to manifest water in the shape of fire, as if to mock him, just the right spell exploding at just the right moment it actually worked. Others involved houses of Hogwarts; a badger that couldn’t care less, a snake with too much sass. No one story was any less ridiculous than the last, and all of them were, but, it put a smile on my face – ear to ear. That he told me was worthwhile, even if his supposed exploits were less than, shall we say, graceful? I never learn if they were true, I never even asked. They were simply our stories, and growing up, I was content to perceive myself special in being only one to hear them. There was but one legend that meant the exception; a would be thief whose deft touch eluded even the sharpest eyes, whilst footsteps never left as much as an echo. Though he remained true to his humorous theatrics, this was the one time I oft recall him deviating from them at times – they felt less exaggerative than what I heard before. Little did I know just how accurate that hunch was. My assortment to Gryffindor house was of, shall we say, slight embarrassment. When the Sorting Hat began to contemplate my placement, I, nervous as I was, instinctively recalled Dad’s stories, wondering aloud if lions just wanted to be kings. I could only be so fortunate not many heard, though the Hat immediately asked if I were Nikolas’ daughter. Apparently, his jesting dated even this far back, much to everyone else’s amusement. To comfort my unnecessary worry, the Hat mentioned the tenacity of Gryffindors, and that my family all were among them – something I hadn’t known. It did the trick, as I would be carrying on tradition. To someone who idolized her father, well, I was happily content with my sorting, even if it did come with high expectations. As if he had known all along, dad sent an owl only a few days thereafter, congratulating me. The message was short and sweet, citing I had best be prepared for a lot of work, but he was proud all the same. His closing was “I expect my daughter to fight lions and dragons.” His way of making me feel I could take on the world. Classes began without much of a hitch, though in retrospect I could have applied myself better. Charms in particular were my instant forte, while in other areas I struggled - by my own standards at least. Admittedly, they were considerably high for an eleven year old, but that has always been a reoccurring theme, even today. I developed a competitive streak of sorts in much of what I did, and academics was certainly no different; a game to see if I could first set my own record and strive to break it each and every time. By mid-season, I was indeed top amongst the class. Defense against the Dark Arts study was, perhaps, my most surprising. I hadn’t expected to fancy it, never mind perform well, yet it stood out as among my strongest subjects as the years dwindled by. There was something, enticing the otherwise nice girl had a dark side. I occasionally teased the idea, if only to watch the reaction, not yet realizing the significance it might soon hold. Unfortunately, to be young and carefree was, as it always seems, fleeting. I was in the midst of my fourth year when I was pulled from class and beckoned to the Head of House’s office. I cannot explain why, however I immediately felt a sinking sensation – something bad happened and I was on my lonely way to discover what I would prefer never to have known. And then, I was told and had little need for the imagination anymore. Dad was dead. In that moment my world came crashing down, as if the school itself and every wall therein fell to floor upon me. I remember, in vivid detail, my response. Silence, absolute silence. I hadn’t asked how, nor even why. I couldn’t. Instead, I was simply numb because it all made so little sense. It simply had to be a mistake, or perhaps a cruel joke from the senior class men. Anything at all would have been a welcoming alternative. However, I was not so fortune to hear what I wanted. They took the initiative to explain as best what they thought necessary, along with the ensuing circumstances. I was to live with Marek, a friend of my father’s whom had apparently agreed to take me in. Only then do I remember finally letting go of my tough exterior, sobbing in the chair. Not because I was essentially going to live with a stranger, not even for my father’s coming trial, but the sheer weight of it all. For whatever reason I remember Marek being rather vexed they saw in fit to lay all this on in a single flurry, expecting I could handle it. Handling it might be all I would ever do, in the blankest of terms. While I would never harbor any love for war. If I were completely honest, it served as a distraction. Everything was quiet, people far more concerned with the wrestled uncertainty, which loomed over Hogwarts these days to care for individual riffs or affair. We were expected to toe the line, conform or be punishment. Gryffindors suffered the worst, thus dislodging any belief I had this would divert my thoughts from the last few months. If anything, they resonated more strongly, alongside a desire to do something. Seemingly each day someone from our house was unjustly punished, some from my own class. We were to learn curses and magic I still hold little interest even now. “Steel your nerves and wait. The time will come for decisions to be made.” Those were the words Marek offered as guidance, and they stayed with me despite my confusion at the time. So I did, keeping to myself throughout the semester, toeing that aforementioned lined just as most of the other students. Though I could not always turn a blind eye – helping where I could, when I could. Between the growing fear amongst us all, and the uncertainty. Well, it was enough to drive you mad were you to sit idle and let it all sink in. And so, the time for decisions would indeed come, when everything changed as the war finally had spilled into our domain. Mine was without hesitation. I was staying. I may not have been a solider of any worth, but even if meager charms from a fifth year could contribute. Perhaps all those years of extra effort in defense magic would have a chance to pay off, or at least be justified. Either way, I had to play my role. Too many of my friends – people I cared for were staying behind for me to desert now. Was I scared? Absolutely. But I didn’t have time to worry about that anymore. Running was never an option. Restoration would begin that very summer, as the Wizarding world could finally move forward again. The Ministry was actively hunting the Death Eaters, perhaps saving face with their boasts after years of disgrace but, for a time anyway, there was some sliver of peace. It put into perspective what I wanted to do from that moment: preserve it. I would speak those very words to Marek that same summer, expressing an interest in the Aurors or even the Ministry itself once I graduated. It was then it chose to reveal what had actually happened to my father. Murdered. Those two words were all I heard. They hung overhead and threatened to suffocate. My immediate assumption was he became embroiled in the war somehow, but Marek could only offer theories as he himself did not only the details. All he could offer was a note; the last words my father would write. It explained why mum had chosen to walk away from us; the wizard world had been too much for her, especially after realizing she was dating a thief. He asked me not to forgive, but to understand her. I did not have any interest to then, but now, perhaps I do see it. It made little difference because my only focus was the story he told. Again, he ask I move on. Instead, it only strengthened my resolve. Marek intended to rid the Ministry of corruption, however long it took, now that he was in a position to readily do so. He explained he would need people he could count on. I practically insisted. And so we agreed, I would practice with him until graduation as preparation and continue onward in whatever role he needed thereafter. I suppose, in writing this now. I ought ask dad, forgive me. I couldn’t move on. Not until I set things right. Time seemed to pass by in an instant. True to his word, I began working in the Ministry immediately after finishing school. Though a pedestrian position, I knew nothing would come easy no matter knew I knew. Marek was never the type to have anyone rely on connections, and was quick to instill that very belief. Establish them, sure, but one couldn’t rely on them, lest you find yourself alone and worthless. Coincidentally, Maggie had found herself a position in the Ministry, though we would work different departments. She was my one exception to the aforementioned. We had been through hell together, friends and sometimes more. If there was anyone I could rely on, she was it. My initial assignment was to the International Magical Corporation, to apparently make use of that charm of mine. I never thought much of it, but I did have a way with people – like being able to read them on nothing but intuition, responding in kind. If you play honesty on just the proper note and can fake sincerity in a moment’s glance. You could go for in an equal span. And indeed I would. A few years of rather daunting clerical work, I found myself on the raise, making the acquaintance of an increasing number of people, whose I was tasked to appeal. Although not lost in all the shuffle was my actual reason for being here. You see, this was always a carefully played ruse, intent to quietly observe the department, turning reports of any activity suspicious to the Ministry over to Marek. Whilst I was not the only one – there were several divided throughout with similar objective. I had become efficient at doing so, never arousing any unwanted attention. The petite secretary did not seem particularly threatening, thus it was an advantage I had to utilize. And I would be lying if I admitted otherwise to not enjoying it to some extent. A game of deception; us all attempting to the other, where the only rules were not to blink first. Some seven years had dwindled by without event, prior to Marek recommending a teaching position at Hogwarts. I partly felt it a decline in all I was accomplishing here to abruptly switch focus, though his assurance was quite the contrary. Upon my return, things would be as they were. This was merely a, shall we say, detour. As per usual, this was to be another façade; to play the role I was assigned and silently observe when opportunity arose. I can only speculate why I agreed. Perhaps on some arbitrary level, I still wanted to pursue a normal life; that all this was beginning to wane. Or maybe it was simply nerves. Much I tried to hide them at times. They always lingered deep within. In many ways, I oft fooled myself – I still do. Nevertheless, I took the assignment, and did my part as was planned. Returning to where it all began. Truth be told, I found the experience rewarding near immediately. Unlike clerical work or dutifully pulling the wool over people’s eyes. I could be somewhat more relaxed those days. Can’t say it was something I wouldn’t consider on a full time basis, but it did lack a certain adventure I always sought. Then again, some of the classes had wild children that filled the void, so to speak. Apparently, I became a favorite, or so I was told by some of the other teachers, who in turn criticised my lack of dedication to homework. Naturally, in my own years as a student, I had always believed work is best done in class, where help could be provided when necessary. Granted, that lack of homework did mean more exams, but something had to give. I’m not entirely which the students preferred. My tenure was not long – two years. In such time, I had managed to uncover the shady practices of the one we sought, though a year prior to my departure. Once caught, the arrangement was I stay on another semester to alleviate any potential suspicion. Fortunately, it was uneventful afterward, with only those needing to know what happened. That being said, the irony of the Ministry’s involvement in Hogwarts yet again did not slip by me. At least this time was different – my constant reassurance. This time was different. Things took an abrupt twist in the subsequent years. Although, I returned to my previous position without much heartache. I attracted the attention of one, Aiden Doyle. In my absence, he had supposedly rose through the ranks, not too dissimilar to my own path toward success, and now stood a rival of sorts – frienemy if you so fancy. We had what one might call a unique relationship. Frequently partnered due to comparative skills, we often bickered when not on company hours. His ideas were bold, my own meticulous. It was a source of tension to say nothing else. What sparked it I haven’t a clue, but we found our way to exercise that aforementioned tension. A simply fling to air out the stress of everyday life, if you could even call it that. Of course, living without complications was never my particular forte. Perceptive and astute I might be. I never could have foreseen myself pregnant. While I may not have necessarily disliked the idea, quite the opposite were I honest. My life did not exactly suit the needs of a child, yet despite it all, I never did hesitant. Did I realize the irrationality? Absolutely. It made no sense I would dive headlong into a family life. However, perspective took priority. This was likely my only chance to perhaps carve out a piece of normalcy and finally move on. I remember the irony in my telling Maggie first, promptly asking her what exactly to do. All too reminiscent of her doing the same to me two years earlier with Lyra. That one instant would stay with me, if only because throughout the years, it always seems to be us two against the world. I’m thankful for it. If only things stayed ever so wonderfully simple. Marek would come to inform me Aiden was a part of the Devoted, whose presence in the Ministry was disconcerting at best. They had long become our biggest obstacle, one we were in no position to overcome without careful planning. But what I perceived as a fling with little consequence – the fact I was pregnant aside. Turned to be Aiden’s attempt to sway my favor to their cause. What he said afterward however, put any thought of dealing with Devoted out of my mind. He had wanted me to terminate the pregnancy, citing the very fears I already harbored – that in pit of political war. A child could bring able a liability, both to the goal and myself. We parted ways that very night, with further contact kept as minimal as possible. Whilst I had no intent of abandoning what I started all those many years ago – that I would make this work somehow. The riff caused between us was not easily forgotten. How could it be, even though now I know the method to madness, so to speak? Likewise, I never did tell Aiden of our child, though I suspect he knows. We too did not part on welcoming terms, as I refused to cast my lot with the Devoted. I worked this hard to fight corruption. I was not going to see myself a hypocrite and partake in it. In spite of the turmoil that had become my life. The day Keira Lawson was first placed in my arms. None of it would matter. Somehow, someway, we would make this work. When I first undertook all this, I envisioned one day peace would be obtainable. I shudder to think that was only idle idealism at work, but the Ministry seems to be in shambles. Nearing six years now and in many ways our efforts seem for naught. For every corrupt or overzealous individual we manage to put away, two more come to take their place. Worse, Marek has seemingly vanished, though I cannot peg him one to be done in so easily, but this all is unsettling, reminiscent of the foreboding war we all hoped stayed buried in the past. Nonetheless, there is work to be done. I did not give up when the opportunity for an easier path arose, and I haven’t the intent to do so now. In Marek’s absence, I was tasked to fill the Senior Undersecretary position in his stead. I presumed it would be temporary, but earlier this year it became official, leaving me to wonder if his was his last attempt to keep a semblance of control ours – a fighting chance if you will. How odd I am to continue the façade I almost walked away from. However, no longer am I alone. Keira, all of five, does not yet know the cruelty of the world, and I resolve to say I hope she never will. She, Maggie and Lyra are the closest thing to a family I have. With things falling apart at the seams. Keeping them safe is my only priority. Yet there is still a role I must play in order to do just that. Thus, I will maintain the Ministry’s guise of structure, until I see fit the opportunity to do more. It may only delay the inevitable, but it’s a start. We hoped to prevent a war. Marek, you may not see it through to the end, but I shall. And I’ll doing it whilst carving out a life for myself, for my family. This could be our last chance.